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This collection was born from a simple, steadfast belief: that the marks we leave upon the world should carry more than just our name. They should carry a piece of our heart, a whisper of our intention, a memory softened by time yet sealed with purpose.
I have always been drawn to the flower—not merely as decoration, but as a quiet, enduring language. Long before words were penned, blossoms were pressed into letters, tucked into lockets, offered as silent tokens. Each flower holds a story deeper than its petals: the daisy’s innocent sun, the camellia’s dignified fall, the poppy’s dream-filled peace. To choose a flower is to choose a feeling. To seal with it is to send that feeling into the world, tenderly encased in wax.
And then, there is the bow—the gentle, often overlooked companion. It is not merely tied; it holds. It gathers the loose ends of emotion, the scattered petals of thought, and binds them together with grace. In every culture, a ribbon signifies connection: it binds gifts, it adorns cherished things, it is the final touch that says, This is intended. This is complete. In these seals, the bow is both closure and continuation. It is the moment where meaning is gathered and offered—a visual sigh, a soft knot of care.
Together, the flower and the bow create a silent pact. The flower speaks the sentiment; the bow ensures it is received as a gift. One is bloom, the other is breath. One is expression, the other is offering.
This set of fourteen seals is therefore more than a series of designs. It is a curated vocabulary of the heart—a way to say I remember, I hope, I thank you, I am here, without ever writing the words. It is for those moments when language feels either too vast or too small: the quiet grief, the private joy, the love that exists in the glance, not the speech.
In my hands, brass and wax become a medium for this quiet conversation. Each seal is a small vessel, waiting to carry your thought, your memory, your promise. To press one into warm wax is to participate in an ancient ritual—slowing down, choosing meaning, leaving a impression that is both beautiful and enduring.
This is why I made them: not as tools, but as companions. Not as trends, but as heirlooms of intention. May they help you say what your heart already knows.
Velvet-petalled and poised, the camellia holds its beauty close. It doesn’t wilt petal by petal; it falls whole—a quiet, dignified surrender.
This seal is for words that are felt deeply but spoken softly, for love letters that are treasured, not displayed.
Ruffled and fragrant, the carnation is a flower of the heart’s faithful rhythm. It has been tucked into buttonholes, woven into bridal crowns, laid upon altars.
In wax, it becomes a token of devotion—a seal for vows, for thank-yous, for the kind of love that shows up, steady and true.
With leaves like heart-shadows and petals swept back like a gentle bow, the cyclamen grows in stone and shade. It teaches grace in departure, beauty in resilience.
This seal is for goodbyes that hold no bitterness, for endings that honor what was, and for beginnings born from release.
The daffodil is spring’s first golden exhale. It rises through the last chill of March, a trumpet call to hope.
Press this seal into correspondence that carries light, that says, I believe in what is coming, or, Your courage is blooming.
It begins with a daisy—a sun in miniature, a little eye of light. It doesn’t ask for much, only an open field and a bit of sky.
In wax, it becomes a seal for mornings: for letters written with dew still on the mind, for promises made in the clear, honest light of a new day.
Tiny, azure, and fierce in its loyalty. Legend says it earned its name from a lover swept away by water, his last words clinging to this flower.
This seal is a keepsake in wax—a way to say, Across distance, through time—I remember you.
This is the rose that sighs. Unruly, lavish, fragrant with memory. It speaks of love that has weathered seasons, beauty that has learned to breathe.
Seal with this for stories told in confidence, for passion that is tender, not perfect.
Tall, serene, a vessel of grace. It rises from murky water unstained.
In wax, it becomes a mark of purity not in innocence, but in renewal—a seal for forgiveness, for clarity, for the quiet dignity of starting over.
A delicate chime of a flower, ringing in May. It is said to have sprung from tears, yet it smells of pure, sweet return.
This seal is for moments of quiet happiness rediscovered, for letters that carry the scent of a second chance.
Ancient, sturdy, blooming with prehistoric courage. Its fragrance is soft, its presence undeniable.
This seal is for standing firm in gentle strength, for commitments made under pressure, for blooming boldly where you are planted.
A wild and sheltered kind of beauty. Rare, tender, yet resilient—it grows where few things can.
This seal is for the ones who walk their own path, for secrets kept with love, for honoring the delicate and strong within.
A little face turned upward, lost in thought. Its name means remembrance, and it holds the soft weight of memory.
Use this seal for letters that say, I was thinking of you, for notes that carry a quiet, lasting affection.
A blaze of red in winter’s depth, a story of humble weeds turned into wonder.
This seal is for celebration that arrives unexpectedly, for joy that shines in the dark, for gifts that say, You are my miracle.
A bloom of dreams and deep peace. It holds the duality of sleep and remembrance, of letting go and holding close.
This seal is for wishes of serenity, for honoring what is lost, and for hoping what is dreamed may one day be.
